100 Themes Challenge, Black Cat Style!
by Mighty Mituna
Summary: Based off of manga, not anime. All 100 themes, right here, starring the Black Cat characters. No set pairings, although some will be suggested. Dedicated to my friend Austen or Natsumi. Lurve you! S&R!
1. Introduction

To be frank, Sven wasn't actually all that sure why he was sitting in the sweeper's bar. He didn't really head there all that often anyways, nevertheless at night. He normally got his information from Annette. But there was something that was pulling him into the small hole in the wall he was sitting in on his way back to the hotel from buying smokes. It was like a large red magnet, or rather, a rusted over magnet, was pulling him into the completely unsanitary sweeper's bar. And it wasn't the scent of alcohol and the roar of boisterous men, either.

So there he sat, hiding in a corner with his hat pulled low over his head, a cigarette in his mouth as he waited for his calling. Or, whatever the hell you could call an itch to head into a random bar for absolutely no reason in the middle of the night. Sven was slightly irked by one loud man sitting at the bar, waiving his hands, and his beer, about in the air with no disregard for who wanted to listen or didn't, screaming out the stuff that in no way, shape, or form could be true.

"I swear, I saw 'im with me own eyes! The Black Cat! 'e ain't dead! 'e was sitting right outside a bakery, eatin' a bread bun and sharing 'is milk with a cat! A CAT!" the short and fat man yelled, sloshing more beer out of his mug and onto another guy, much to his chagrin.

"Look, ya dolt! Black Cat is, and has been, D. E. A. D. Dead! He died a year ago! You know that!" a tall and muscular man interjected, glaring down at him before downing the rest of his mug. Soon after that loud exclamation, all of the men sitting around the bar stepped up to debate their beliefs, except one in the corner, who had ceased to socialize with anyone in the bar. Sven focused his gaze on this man slyly under the brim of his hat, sitting back in his chair.

The man sitting in the corner had messy chocolate hair, the kind that made women want to run their hands through it constantly, despite probably the massive amounts of hair gel it probably contained. But, the thing that left Sven wondering was when the man ran a hand through his messy brown hair, it parted naturally, like it stuck up like that normally. The baggy white shirt that the man wore stuck to his figure quite flatteringly, except to the fact that you could see a partial outline of his ribs, making it look like he had taken ribbons and tied them with equal space in between on his chest. The fact worried Sven slightly, considering how young the man looked, but he said nothing as his eyes met with the gun hanging on his thigh. _Quite the amount of heat to be packing, even for a sweeper…_ Sven thought as he brought his eyes up to the man's face, halting when he met his eyes.

The honey-colored eyes had more depths than anyone could imagine, like golden seas, and could capture you and drown you if you stared too long. Compared to Sven's calm, open green eyes, this man made it look like he carried his soul in his eyes. And it was slightly frightening. While Sven was caught in this man's eyes, he had somehow moved over to his table, sitting adjacent to him with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of milk in his hands.

"Hello? Are you in there, pops?" the man asked flatly, raising an eyebrow as Sven shook his head for a moment to clear his confusion.

"Yeah. And I'm not pops! I'm only 28," Sven snapped, glaring at the man and taking a deep drag of his cancer stick. The man laughed, raising his hands in the air after setting down his glass of milk.

"Hey, who am I to judge? I just thought you looked older. Sorry," the man said, his eyes dancing with glee and laughter. For some reason, this just irritated Sven a lot more.

"Well I'm not. Who the hell are you, anyways?" Sven asked, staring at the man suspiciously.

"Train Heartnet. I'm a sweeper, obviously. I just started a few months ago," Train answered pleasantly. "And you are?"

"Sven Vollfied," the green-haired man replied.

"Nice to meet'cha, old man," Train teased, giving a cat-like grin. Sven growled a few curses as he looked over Train once more. His eyes soon met the roman numeral 13 on his chest, raising an eyebrow in realization.

_Well then. This shall be fun._


	2. Love

As Eve sat in the corner in her usual "Emo Chair", as Train liked to call it, she shook her head in disappointment. Train, like an idiot, had sat down with a man he had no close connection to whatsoever, and drank a whole bottle of god knows what just so he could tell the man he would get rid of the guy who had killed his family.

Don't get Eve wrong, she actually, as much as she hated admitting it, _admired_ the fact that Train had wanted to make sure the man knew that he was going to avenge his family.

But a whole bottle of something? When he doesn't know what's in it, OR drink at all? That was just a bit too far.

And the thing that was irking Eve the most was Train was absolutely head-over-heels trashed right now. Currently, he was dragging poor Sven around in a sloppy dance, or what appeared to be a primate mating ritual, and singing a song at the top of his lungs.

"_I believe in a thing called love! Just listen to the rhythm of my heart! There's a chance we can make it now! We'll be rockin' till the sun goes down! I BELIEVE IN A THING CALLED LOOOOOOOVE~! Ooooh~! GUITAR!" _Train sang to what Eve supposed was the music inside his head. Sven was stumbling about and smashing into walls and such, cursing like the sailor he had never been. Eve was quite impressed by the string of curses coming from the green-haired man, and turned on her mental recorders as to remember these words for later.

Soon, though, Train settled down with Sven sprawled half-way on the couch, and himself sitting on the dining room table.

"I used ta' lurve someone, y'know? She was real pretty," Train commented randomly, his usual smooth voice slurring a lot of his words. Definitely trashed.

"Who?" Sven asked, sitting up and fixing his hat with an irritated look shining clearly on his face. Eve couldn't blame him; Sven had been smashed into nearly every object but her corner due to how small and cramped the room was.

"I've told yew about her. Her name's Saya. Well, it used ta be. Now she's as cold as ice, probably a few smithereens due to the explosion you found me in. I accept tha', though. Tha's okay. Life happens. _Death_ happens. She was a really good person, y'know? She taught me to be me," Train said, laying back on the table and letting his legs hang off the sides, swinging freely. "But, chu' know, it's my fault she's dead."

"Don't say that! It's never anyone's fault that someone is dead," Sven said, sighing and lowering his head as he lit a cigarette, glancing over at Eve. She proceeded to make it look like she was sucked into her book, as usual. But really, she was listening to every word that was being said. And feeling her heart break, subtly.

"Tis' my fault though, dear Waterson. (Eve shook her head in shame, wondering if it was due to Train's slurring or his actual illiteracy.) The crazy asshole I like to call my personal gay stalker went psycho and killed her. And I miss her a lot. And, this'll probably be the only time you hear about Saya like this," Train said with a saddened grin, sitting up.

"Why?" Sven questioned, tilting his head as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. Train stood, stumbling over to the bathroom. But, before he entered the room and would come out as a sober man, he uttered a few words that felt like a slap to his friends and sweeping partners.

"Because. I don't want anyone to know how really sad I am inside most of the time."

And like that, Train had disappeared inside. Sven sighed to himself, muttering about how much Train was an idiot as he went to the kitchen, probably to start making a supper of a sad excuse called fish.

But for some reason, as Eve intended to follow Sven, she felt melted into the chair. And had an experience that hadn't happened since she had been under Torneo's rule.

She began to cry.

Not that kind of, boo hoo, sniffle cry. More like the, chest racking sobs that you try to hide for no reason, but fail anyways cry.

And, as much as Eve hated to admit it…

She loved Train, even though he was an idiot.

Not like she could tell anyone that, anyways. After all, she was competing with Train to get Sven's attention. But, she would hold that little crush dearly, and secretly. Because now she knew that Train wasn't just an arrogant jerk that she had to reason for liking. Because, secretly, he had become a true man, even if it was just for 5 minutes.


	3. Light

_**Author's Rare but Occasional Note: I'd like to thank Dreamer's Samhain and Muu-Miu-Mew. Your reviews encouraged me to write chapters 2 and 3. Granted, they aren't the longest chapters, but, they're still chapters. So, once more, Thank You. I appreciate your encouragement and feedback.**_

* * *

"Mmm, the sun is so bright today!" Saya remarked cheerfully, stretching and looking about the rooftop. Train was nestled in between an unused chimney and a small electricity generator house, sinking into the shade with his eyes shut tightly.

"What, you don't like the light?" Saya asked, kneeling down beside Train and hugging her knees to her chest. Luckily, the yukata she had chosen to wear was a few inches too long, so it's not like Train could adhere to his temporarily tainted mind. Not that he'd be looking, anyways. He was too serious for that.

"Too bright. Hurts my eyes," Train finally grunted in reply, his eyes still shut off to the world. Saya harrumphed, narrowing her eyes slightly at the assassin.

"I bet if you were told the world was going to end tomorrow, you'd keep your eyes open the whole day," the sweeper said, looking back up at the sapphire sky.

"No. I'd want to keep my eyes shut," the assassin replied quietly, sitting up and looking at Saya with a slightly raised eyebrow, as if asking "What fresh hell is this?"

"Why the crap would you do that?" Train sighed through his nose at Saya's childish vocabulary.

"Just say shit. And because. Wouldn't you rather remember the best sunset you've ever seen in your life than just an average sun to block out that miraculous sunset?"

"I refuse to say something like that," Saya retorted, sticking out her tongue babyishly. "And wouldn't that average sun be more amazing since you were going to die?"

"No. That only works with people," Train commented, crossing his legs. Saya cocked her head to the side in confusion.

"… Explanation, please?"

"If you were going to die tomorrow, and you looked at me, you'd find me more attractive, due to nature. Science says that with the impending threat of doom, all animals in nature would try to reproduce quickly in hopes that they could keep their species going," Train answered with a nonchalant shrug.

"… That's probably the smartest thing I've ever heard you say. And the most you've ever said to me!" Saya said in awe, her eyes glittering with excitement as the sun became hidden behind the clouds.

"Mm, I'm glad you think so. Cuz' you'll probably not hear me talk a lot like that again," Train said, a small rare smirk spreading across his face.

"Ooooh, that's no fair!" Saya pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"Perfectly fair. Would you rather remember me saying something smart because I rarely speak, or something stupid because I speak all the time?"

"… I wouldn't care either way. If we were going to die tomorrow, I'd just want to remember you," Saya said seriously.

"Why are we talking about the world ending, anyways?"

"Because I was talking about the sun, you bat!" Saya exclaimed, laughing.

"… Ehh. Like I said, I wouldn't be focused on the sun." _I'd probably be focused on you._ Train added in his mind, a small smile spreading across his face as he looked away. Yes, he would be looking at Saya, not the sun. After all, light was expendable. Saya was not.


End file.
